St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-05-15


The bells of Sainte-Philflene sway to
and fro under the headlong fury of the
storm, an ominouS portent as we know
but DIR. TrifulgaS eschewS all Supersti-
tiouS notions. The fact is that the doc
tor believes in nothing at all-no, not
even his own science, except in what it
brings him.
What weather, to be sure, and what a
road. Nothing but single and Stag
the single slippery like seaweed and
the Stag crisp as clinker. And no other
light to see by except Il tremulous
flicker from Hurzof's lantern. AT times
and stir III the flames that now and
again swell from the mouth of the Van
glor; There is really no telling what
lies hidden at the bottom of those in
serutable craterS. Perhaps the souls of
the underworld that volatile on reach
ing our atmosphere.
The doctor and the old woman follow
the line of coast that runs in and out of
the small bays along the shore. The
sea is of livid Wilderness and sparkles
as Its pillows hurtle the phoSporeScent
fringe OF surf that seems to pour waves
upon waves of gloW-WormS upon the
beach. Thus both walk on until they
reach a bend in the road between two
swelling downs, where the room and
Sea-rushes clasp their blades together
like so many bayonetS. The dog has
drawn closer TO his master and seems 70
say:
We'll, what do you think? A hun
dred and twenty fretZerS to be placed
under lock and key in the safe as soon
as we get back home. That's the way
to build up fortune. IT'S another
piece of ground 10 be added to the vine
fAnplnsnrnf Il iIl, thn
evening meal. Another bowl of wash
for faithful Hurzof. Nothing like at
tending patients who are willing to UNI
loose their pursestringS."
At this point the old womon stopped.
She pointed finger palsied with age
toward red light some way Off in the
gloom-the house, evidently, of Wort
kartif. the herring-curer.
"There?' laconically put in the doc
tor.
Yes" nodded the herring-curer's
mother.
OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES struck up Hur-
Zof.
Just then the Vanglor, vibrating to its
foundations with voice like thunder,
threw up one huge mass of fuliginous
flames that rent the clouds. DR.. Triful-
gas was thrown to the gruund by the
force of the conclusion. Regaining his
footing, however, he swOre like trooper
and looked around. The old woman had
disappeared. She must have fallen
through some deep crevice in the
ground, or taken flight on the floating
fog-clOuds of ocean. The dog. never
theless, was still there. upright on his
launches, his mouth wide open, but the
light of the lantern was blown out
Never mind, mumbled the doctor,
lets 90 on
The honest man had pocketed his 800
fretZerS and now felt that he must earn,
them.
a lone light was visible in the dis.
lance, half kertseS away. Doubtless
it was the lamp of the dying, or, per-
chance, dead man, and yonder must be
the herring-curer's abode. There could
be no mistake, for the old woman had
pointed it out. And so thinking, under
the whistiing whitfs OF the wind and the
driving swash of the rain, with the
whole noise Of the storm in his ears, DR..
Trifulgas hurried OH in the direction of
the house, which, standing in front of a
wide heath, became more diStinctively
perceptible as the wayfarer approached.
1t was singular and noteworthy fact
to observe how much the house of the
herring-curer looked like the doctors
''SiX-Quatre, at Luktop. There was
certainly the same arrangement in the
front windows and the little vaulted
door at the side.
DR.. TrifulgaS strobe on as fast as the
driving gusts of wind and rain would
allow. He reached the door which was
aiar, pushed it open and entered; the
force of the blast closed it behind him
with bang. The dog outside howled
OF was silent by turns, as when the
chOriSterS chant the verses of forty
hours psalm.
How very strange! 1t might almost
be affirmed that DR.. Trifulgas had come
could not be. He took no wrong turn-
ing on the road, nor die ne lose mis- way.
No. he was certainly at Val Karniou,
and not at LulItrop. Yet. how came it
that his eye dwelt on the same low,
vaulted corridor, the same winding
staircase, and the same massive wooden
| railing, hand-wOrn like his own? He
mounted the stairs and stopped on the
landing. A faint light came from under
the door, as at the ''Six-Quatrer' Was
it snare or delusion? BY the uncer-
tain glimmerr of the lamp he vaguely
recognized his own room. There was
the yellow sofa, and there on the right
was the old oak chest, and
there on the left was the iron-bound
safe in which he proposed placing his
10 fretZerS. Yonder. again, were his
armchair with its leather tassels, his
table with convoluted legs, and upon it
by the Pickering lamp his own Codex,
still open at page 1917.
What ails me?' murmnred the doc
! tor.
What ails you? Why, you are palsied
with fright. Your eyeballS start from
&c
dwindles in size. An icy sweat chills
your skin, over which nameIess horrors
silently creep. Quick, or the lamp will
60 out for lack of oil, and the sick man
| die. Yes, the bed is there-his own,
one would think, with its pillars and
! baldaquin-a bed as broad as it is long,
and the closed curtains with their large
inwrought flowers.
Can this indeed be the bed of poor
herring-curer. Trembling all over, the
doctor drew near, pulled the curtain
stretched on his dying bed, the sick man
lay with his head dropping over the
counterpart and his body motionless,
! like one about to breath his last.
The doctor leaned forward.
All. what hOrrid scream was that
which rent the air and was taken up by
the dog outside with his sinister bowling?
1t is not Wort Kartif, the herring
curer, but he, DR.. Trifulgas himself,
who is the dying man. He is smitten
down with brain fever. Full well he
knows the symptoms. 1t is cerebral APP
OpleXy, with sudden accumulation of
serosity in the cavities of the brain and
partial paralysis of body on the side OPP
posite that where the lesion exists. 1t
is for him, and no other, that assistance
was besought, that 120 fretZers were
paid! He-who in the hardness of his
heart, refused to attend the poor her
ring-curer! 1t is himself, then, who is